


Ride or Die

by MatildaSwan



Category: Holby City
Genre: Canon Compliant, Elinor is dead after all, Established Relationship, F/F, Feelings, I promise it is happy, Light Angst, a touch of angst obviously, but this is a happy fic, good feelings, happy feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 03:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10179734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatildaSwan/pseuds/MatildaSwan
Summary: Bernie has sensed, for quite some time (longer now than she cares to admit), that maybe this is forever. That they are forever. That she and Serena are forever.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Supergirl (I assume finale probs), and maybe recent Holby City episodes—everything before about a month ago, at any rate—but I don't actually know, I don't watch either show, so y'all will be fine probably. 
> 
> Previous missing scenes filled in [I thought there was nothing you could do that would scare me away (though now I'm not so sure)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9780548)
> 
> Set at some point in the future but ignoring everything the trailer implies might happen

Things in Bernie’s life are rather tense. Things in Bernie’s life are rather tense and have been for quite some time. Things in Bernie’s life are rather tense and have been for a while and most of that relates to Serena. To Elinor. To Serena losing Elinor. Serena lost Elinor and herself as well and Bernie almost lost Serena too. Bernie almost let Serena push her away and keep her there; almost let Serena push Bernie away and out of her life and leave her there.

Almost. Bernie reminds herself every day. You almost lost her, but you didn’t. She is still here, with you. She is still with you, Bernie reminds herself every day; has done for time time. Bernie’s life has been tense for some time because her and Serena have been tense for quite a while.

That have been tense as colleague, for one thing. Thankfully the ward is fine now, though, but it was not always. It was not fine during those first few weeks with Serena back on the ward after Elinor’s passing. During the first few hiccups as Serena tried to navigate her way through a haze of grief and co-lead a ward at the same time. Those first few weeks that had Bernie worried sick about Serena’s behaviour; her behaviour on the ward, with their colleagues, with her patients.

Things are better now, they have settled, and Bernie is not worried about Serena on the ward. She knows that Serena is not using work as a distraction anymore, knows that Medicine is part of who Serena is: the heart of who Serena is and that she needs it to survive. But for a few weeks those hiccups had Bernie sick with worry and begging Serena to talk to a professional. (Bernie would listen, if she thought she could help Serena. She would do anything in the world if she thought it would help. But Bernie knows there are things that she cannot help Serena with, as much as she wants to. So she helps Serena with what she can do, like finding others who can help. She finds people who can help Serena.)

Serena did, talk to a professional, thankfully. Still does, frequently. Some days she goes by herself and other times she has Bernie drop her there. Now she has Bernie drive her there and home again most of the time; so she knows Bernie is waiting nearby as she speaks to a professional.

(They have a system, of numbers, so that Bernie knows what kind of attention to pay Serena after a session. Will know if Serena wants to go straight home and continue crying—sometimes alone and sometimes held—or if she wants to drive around town for an hour. Will know if Serena wants Bernie to buy her an ice cream cone and hold her hand while they sit on park bench or take her home and tuck her up in bed and leave her in silence. Will know if Serena wants company or solitude. They implemented it after Serena kept getting in the car afterwards and bristling under Bernie’s response: always cautious, not knowing what kind of state Serena was in, but never quite getting it right, always trying the wrong type of temperament to temper Serena’s own. Implemented so that Bernie knows what Serena needs. It helps, a lot of the time, for Serena to have a way of telling Bernie what she needs without actually having to tell Bernie.)

Things have been tense between them, as well, for a while. Much less now, that they have settled into each other. They have found a balance, between Serena and herself, and the three of them in the house together: Serena and Bernie and Jason. Bernie does not technically live there, in their house, not yet at any rate. She still has her flat where most of her things live and neither of them are thinking about changing that any time soon. But Bernie spends most nights at Serena’s now, unlike the few weeks where Serena pulled away after Elinor’s funeral.

Bernie want to be close, but not smothering; wants to give Serena the space she needs but not to leave her so much that Serena thinks she is alone. So some some nights she pulls up outside Serena house, kisses her goodbye, and keeps driving back to hers. Other nights she pulls up outside Serena’s house intent on kissing her goodbye only for Serena to ask her to stay (she does, of course, she will always stay when Serena asks). But sometimes, other time, she comes inside for dinner, settles herself on the couch to watch television with Jason, expecting Serena to join them. Goes searching when Serena does not and always finds her in her own space, regrouping away from everyone. On those nights she kisses Serena goodnight and hugs Jason on her way out and drives home to sleep alone. She never minds, not really, because they both need space apart; it's good for them, sometimes, to have some time apart.

It is good for them to be together, too, most of the time; together and apart as well as together and alone. Together on the ward, with their colleagues, with their families. Alone with each other, in their bed, with their thoughts. They have found a balance—on the ward, at home, when they are together, when they are not—that works for them. They have a balance that might not work every day but does work most days and that is enough for Bernie. It is enough for Bernie that things are alright most days.

*

Things are alright that day. Things have been alright that whole week, in fact. They have balanced things well the entire week. The ward is fine (well, it was when they left it and clocked off several hours ago) and the house is good (calm and quiet, late night nearing midnight) and Jason is happy (was before he went to bed, at any rate) and Serena is content enough (standing in the kitchen, warming her hands in a sink-full of washing up) with makes Bernie as pleased as she can be (watching Serena scrub from the other side of the kitchen). Bernie had offered to help, obvious, but like always, was told to go collect dirty dishes instead.

“You never scrub the mugs properly,” Serena always says. A criticism Bernie could never understand.

“They’re tea mugs, how much scrubbing could they possibly need?” Bernie would always reply before scampering off to grab the stray mug she usually ends up leaving in the living room.

So Bernie is standing on the other side of the kitchen, watching Serena stand at the sink. Light from the outside streetlamp streams in through the kitchen window to backlight Serena’s silhouette: soft and curved and gorgeous. Warm shine of the ceiling gleaming down on her: bright on the red of her singlet, the skin of her neck, the brown of her hair. Bernie wants to walk across the kitchen and slide her hands around Serena’s waist. Wants to walk across the kitchen and brush her lips over the ridges of Serena’s cervical. Wants to nuzzle her face into the crook of Serena’s neck. Wants what she always wants: to be near Serena.

Bernie is near Serena, or near enough, on the other side of the room. Because they are balanced and together; as happy as can be expected, genuinely contented, and not at all tense.

Except Bernie is tense, tonight. Suddenly and out of the blue. She was fine five minutes ago but now she is tense. Now, looking at Serena, Bernie is tense. Tense with something she needs to say. Looking at Serena, warming her hands in a sink-full of washing up look soft and warm and happy enough, there is something she needs to tell her. Something she has needed to say for some time but never quite found the right words; is still searching for the perfect words. Staring at the dusting of cracked pepper on the bench waiting to be wiped down, Bernie makes herself find the words.

“Ride or die,” Bernie mumbles, absently playing with the pepper dust.

“What was that?” Serena asked, looking up from the sink and turn her head towards Bernie. They are the first words Bernie has said in at least a quarter of an hour so Serena knows they must be important.

“Oh, just, um, something I heard, in one of Jason’s shows—the one with the lesbian whose sister is an alien?”

“Supergirl,” Serena supplies, smirking the same way she always does when Bernie tries to talk about things from pop culture she has next to no clue about.

“Yes, right, well, um, the girlfriend, Alex’s girlfriend—“

“Maggie.”

“Maggie, yes, Maggie said that “she’s ride or die” in one of the episodes Jason was watching—he said it means end game? but I have no idea what that means—honestly I didn’t really understand any of it at the time, it took me a while to figure out but…” Bernie trails off, looking away from Serena and at the corner of the kitchen. Finally, _finally,_ finds the words. Close her eyes, breathes deep, looks at Serena now facing Bernie and a few feet away from her on the other side of the kitchen.

“Serena, I love you,” she says like she always does: measured and certain and with so much weight. “I know I don’t say it that often, but I feel it, all the time. And I know you can feel it, that I love you. And I know that, um, well, this is forever, being with you, is for the rest of my life. If you’ll have me that long. And, ah, I just wanted you to know, than I’m here, with you, for how ever long you’ll have me. That I’m, ah, I’m ride or die, for you,” Bernie says with a smile, small but shining all the same, and tilts her head to the side.

She looks at Serena standing rigid on the other side of the room and Bernie’s face falls. She sees the storm of emotion raging across Serena’s face and flashing in her eyes and Bernie’s stomach churns. Serena’s chin quivers and she looks close to tears and Bernie’s heart lurches. Serena opens her mouth, closes it, opens it again.

“Three and a half,” she says, and turns away. _Don’t talk to me or touch me (but don’t leave me on my own)_.

Bernie understands and obeys. Scuffs her toe on the kitchen floor, pad of her finger still coated with pepper cracks, and looks at the ground. Curls in on herself in the silence, at the sight of Serena’s back, and tries to collect her thoughts. Maybe she said too much, to make Serena turn away. Made it seem like she expected Serena to respond, that she wanted something from Serena. She hadn’t, not really; she just needed Serena to know. Only now she wonders if Serena was ready to know, ready to hear Bernie say out loud what Bernie knew was already there, in herself. Maybe Serena was not ready to know—Bernie should have waited, till she knew Serena was ready.

Bernie reminders herself to breathe and looks up at Serena; explanation in her mind and apology on her lips. Looks up ready to explain that she does not need anything from Serena; does not need anything more than what she already has. Looks up to see Serena striding across the kitchen towards Bernie: soap suds stains wet on her top and her face blazing.

Serena’s mouth is on hers before Bernie has a chance to speak. Bernie’s mouth is pressing back before she has a chance to properly register the kiss. Her eyes flutter shut and she moans, her hands finding Serena’s hips and pulling her closer as Serena’s fingers plays with her hair. Bernie smiles into the kiss before Serena draws back and cups Bernie’s cheeks in her palms. Bernie catches Serena top lip between her own in a light, final peck before pulling away.

They break apart, breathless and tingling, only for Serena to surge forward again. She tangles her fingers tight in Bernie’s locks; hot mouth fierce against Bernie’s own. Bernie whimpers and slides her arms around Serena’s waist to hold her near; opens her mouth and feels Serena's tongue brush against her own. Melts against Serena until her lungs burn and she has to break away to breathe.

Bernie breathes deep. Breathes in oxygen and with it the joy radiating from Serena and her shining gorgeous face. Bernie thinks that both might be essential to her continued existence. The silence stretches but does not tense; hangs comfortably in the air between them. They bask until finally Serena breaks the silence.

“So am I,” Serena says, voice thick and eyes wet. “I know this isn’t what either of us thought it would be, before, and that things will never be like they were before Elinor…” Serena trails off, too keyed up and raw to manage the words right now. “I know that sometimes it seems like I don’t want you here, and I can’t promise those moments will ever stop. Not now this is who I am. But I want this—you—always. I’ll never force you to stay if you don’t want to be here, but I want you to stay, with me. I want you for as long as you’re willing to stay,” Serena says with a smile so bright it leaves spots in Bernie’s eyes.

“Always,” Bernie says, beaming back just as bright. “Forever.”

She leans forward still smiling: kisses the tip of Serena’s nose, the apple of her cheeks, the cleft of her chin. Serena giggles and Bernie catches her lips again. Swallows her laugher only to pull back and sees it still sparkling in Serena’s eyes. For one brief bright shining moment Bernie knows, with absolute certainly and none of the doubt she usually carries around on her shoulders, that they will be alright in the end. Knows they will be fine because Serena is looking at her like she knows it too.

Bernie looks at Serena with her eyes wide open and never wants to stop. Bernie looks at Serena and keeps her eyes open, for all she is standing so close to the sun. Bernie keeps her eyes open and looking at the sun; will continue to do so long after her wings have melted away to feathers and wax just to be near this women for her rest of her life.

**Author's Note:**

> *Spoilers for the Spring Trailer and CW: implied reference to suicide*
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> I wrote this to try and process my feelings about the new trailer in which Bernie Wolfe is so ride or die for Serena Campbell that, thinking maybe she might have to live in a world without Serena, Bernie threw her scar-ridden and once fractured body against a locked reinforced metal door, while bellowing Serena's name, and smashed that door wide open. Because Bernie Wolfe would rather smash her whole self to pieces all over again than live in a world without Serena Campbell. 
> 
> On that note, I don't think I've process my feelings about the trailer at all. Please feel free to leave my hugs in the comments, I'm going to go cry again now.


End file.
